


The Complete Works of Poet A.J.

by Watermelonsmellinfellon



Series: How the Two Halves of a Former Archangel Became One [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Was Raphael (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Were Both Raphael (Good Omens), Based on a Tumblr Post, Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley pines more than a forest, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Pining Crowley (Good Omens), Poet Crowley (Good Omens), Poetry, part of a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-06-25 01:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19735543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watermelonsmellinfellon/pseuds/Watermelonsmellinfellon
Summary: In which the complete collection of one of Aziraphael's favourite poets is released and he drags Crowley out to get a limited edition copy.Surprise! Surprise! Crowley is the poet!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SharkbaitHooHaHa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkbaitHooHaHa/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Poet Crowley AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/496942) by SharkbaitHooHaHa/acuteangleaziraphale. 



> -Saw a post on Tumblr with this idea and had to do it with SLIGHT deviations!
> 
> -You don't need to read the first fic in the series. I just added this to the series because I realized how I wrote it fit in so well. Can be stand alone though.

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

"Why are we here again, angel?" Crowley as as they were stood in a long queue, waiting for something to do with books since they were in a different bookshop across London. It smelled old and stale, and there was no music so it was boring. Also, so many people squished together just for some limited edition books was annoying him.

Aziraphael, as usual when something made him happy, did a little wiggle. "Because, Crowley, a special edition of work by one of my favourite poets has been released with previously unpublished additions!"

And of course he would be thrilled about that. Crowley had never been much into reading himself. Fiction was best usually and even then few authors managed to pull off the story-telling well enough.

"When was this author around?" And had he heard of them?

"Toward the end of 1942 as far as anyone is aware. Their personal journal was discovered in the wreckage of the Blitz and published posthumously when the owner could not be located and was assumed dead. I fancy poetry and was curious so I purchased a copy and fell in love. No one has ever written such longing so clearly, I'd say. And some of the situations written about reminded me of Shakespeare's own brand of drama, but this felt more personal and real."

Sad. Of course Aziraphael would be drawn to it. He was a bleeding heart who reached out to other bleeding hearts without hesitation.

"And what's your favourite piece by this poet, angel?"

Aziraphael smiled softly, eyes becoming a bit misty as he quoted, " _'Angel in disguise. The one I will cherish most. Is always in mind.'_ So very sweet, my dear."

Crowley's entire being froze, remembering those words clear as day since he'd been the one to write them. And it had in fact been a project of his, simply to get his feelings out after the whole _nearly_ losing his angel - for a small time at least - to the Nazis bombings. Half of what he'd put down hadn't even rhymed! Did that count as poetry?

He looked more closely at the boards dangling from the ceiling, finding the words, **'The Complete Works of Poet A.J.'** staring at him in big, golden lettering. Back when he'd been hesitant to put his usual name on everything he signed he would just put 'A.J.'.

He had assumed the journal had been burned up and had simply shrugged it off. He had dozens of others filled with his thoughts of Aziraphael and their six thousand year old relationship. He couldn't believe that his ramblings had been published and he didn't even know!

Aziraphael's little bouncing brought him back to the present where he wondered if he should say something. They were lovers now. Hadn't been in the writings of course, but Crowley had pined more than a forest back then. And if Crowley, under an alias, was one of Aziraphael's favourite poets, then he had to know a lot of Crowley's most intimate thoughts.

He was kind of mortified and kind of touched. His angel knew about his feelings even if not knowing they were directly about _him_. But he also liked them. Loved them even. Enough to get emotional reciting simple haiku.

What to do?

* * *

Hours. He'd been sat beside Aziraphael on the sofa while the angel read each poem aloud, bringing Crowley back to a time in which he could only watch from afar as his angel went about his business.

He truly hadn't held back with his emotions. Or dramatics.

As the time passed, Crowley sank more and more into his angel's lap, enjoying his voice speaking Crowley's old thoughts aloud for the first time in the demon's life.

**1.)**

> I have fallen for an angel, who smiles like the sun.  
>  Who beams upon the masses when the victory is won.
> 
> This angel keeps my very breath arrested in my chest.  
>  With every day that's gone by, I can only see their best.
> 
> I used to mope and wander with an envy over all,  
>  But since I met my angel, I cannot regret this Fall.

**29.)**

> Our relationship is secret,  
>  Our families are at war.
> 
> We try not to mention it,  
>  When meeting at the shore.
> 
> But that dark truth lingers,  
>  And it cannot be hidden.
> 
> If they say to kill each other,  
>  Will we do as we are bidden?
> 
> We try to keep it private,  
>  So we won't be detected.
> 
> But if we are, I'll make certain,  
>  My angel is protected.

**63.)**

> This little moment came and went,  
>  A smile and a round of laughter.  
>  The time betwixt us is well spent.  
>  And all the time hereafter.

**111.)**

> What do you do when the one you,  
>  Most admire is your enemy?  
>  At least in the minds of all but you.
> 
> Sometimes my precious angel,  
>  So blinded by ties to family,  
>  Can't even see the blinding truth.
> 
> The Great are not so Good,  
>  And light can be quite tainted.  
>  I do not lie, these words are true.
> 
> Sometimes I want to bellow it,  
>  And some days I wish to gloat,  
>  Yet these words I cannot spew.
> 
> To break an angel's heart is cruel.  
>  I could not be the one to do it.  
>  Tell me, could you?

**245.)**

> I remember that summer in Rome.  
>  We walked along the streets together.  
>  Just a pair of the most unlikely sort.  
>  And though we did nothing but browse,  
>  At the time, I'd never been happier.

**666.)**

> Angel in disguise.  
>  The one I will cherish most.  
>  Is always in mind.

**879.)**

> My dedication knows no bounds,  
>  They were making angel move away,
> 
> My cunning mind and quick thinking,  
>  Managed to make them stay.
> 
> And nobody shall ever know,  
>  Just what I did that day.

**1000.)**

> _(A/N: To the tune of Taylor Swift's[You Are In Love](https://youtu.be/EwMZ_BYoCpI).)_
> 
> Times change.  
>  Us too.
> 
> The world,  
>  Is new.
> 
> I watch,  
>  Their face.
> 
> I see,  
>  Their Grace.
> 
> They grin,  
>  I talk.
> 
> We eat,  
>  We walk.
> 
> And time,  
>  Will wait.
> 
> We won't,  
>  Be late.
> 
> The end,  
>  Will come.
> 
> But we,  
>  Can run.
> 
> I hope,  
>  For days,
> 
> Where it's,  
>  Okay.
> 
> Dear God,  
>  Don't let,
> 
> This end,  
>  Just yet.
> 
> I want,  
>  More time,
> 
> To watch,  
>  Them shine.

* * *

Somewhere during the last poem in the book, Crowley, who had been resting his head on Aziraphael's lap and had no way to see the pages, joined in on quoting the poem. He remembered exactly when he'd written it too. One of those bad days where he stressed over the End Times and what it would mean for he and Aziraphael. He'd had a lot of those days over the course of their history.

Aziraphael beamed down at him. "You know it?"

He snorted. "I should hope so, angel. _I'm_ the one who wrote it about you to begin with."

There was silence for the space of a second. But only a second as the angel processed his words and proceeded to toss the book to the other side of the sofa and yank the demon into his arms. "You? Truly?" He sounded breathless.

"A.J. Anthony J. Crowley. Never meant for anyone to see any of it."

What could best be described as a croon, left Aziraphael's lips. "You, who doesn't even like reading, wrote poetry for _me_?"

He flushed and looked away, knowing where his angel's mind was going. "I mean, I wrote a lot of things about you. Still have the others even. It's not like it's that important or anything."

If there was any way to get a quick snog though, writing about the love of your life was surely the way to get it.

Who knew his pining and mediocre writing could garner such a reaction?

* * *

**A/N: Finished!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of Crowley's poetry about Aziraphael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Because I randomly started writing more poetry about Aziraphale from Crowley's perspective and decided to make this a second chapter.

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Good Omens.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/).**

* * *

Aziraphael shifted the book on his lap so he could better accommodate Crowley's head. Crowley liked to drape himself across the angel's sofa and just listen to him read aloud the very words Crowley had never intended for him to hear.

He was still coming to terms with the fact that he was a published author in a sense. And not seeing a pound of the profits... even though he didn't really _need_ money.

The collection of his work wasn't even in numerical order. He wondered why. Why put them out of order? What was the point in keeping the numbers of the poems but not keeping them all in order per chapter?

His angel's free hand carded through Crowley's once again long hair and the demon felt calm and warm and would have gladly turned into a snake, but then he wouldn't have hair for Aziraphael to play with.

Aziraphael made his shite poetry sound more romantic than Crowley had intended when jotting his thoughts down. He'd just been rambling on paper since he hadn't had anyone other than said angel to ramble to in person.

Crowley could remember the words, though he struggled to remember when he'd written them. A lot of those poems came decades if not centuries after the situations they were about, had occurred.

Still, it was a relief that Aziraphael loved them so much. Made him less hesitant to show the angel the rest of the poetry Crowley had dedicated to him, and there was so much left.

**12.) YOU + ME**

> You like to dine out often,  
> You love to fill your plate.  
> You give all of your attention to,  
> The food you think is great.
> 
> Oh, how it always charms me,  
> Oh, how you make me smile.  
> Oh, how I wish I could explain,  
> The joy felt all the while.
> 
> Underneath my coat a hammer,  
> Underneath the cloth I melt.  
> Underneath my skin and bones,  
> The feeling is always felt.
> 
> My gaze will often linger,  
> My stare becomes too wild,  
> My head will deny it though,  
> The temptation is never mild.
> 
> Even when time has ended,  
> Even when I've nothing to gain.  
> Even when it's just you and me,  
> These affections cannot wane.

**44.) (Untitled Sonnet)** **Note: 1.)** Never written a sonnet before, pls be gentle. **2.)** This is _not_ in Iambic Pentameter! Our Poetry class was just a slot in English where we were given a Christian-approved poem to memorize that week. We didn't learn about stanzas or structure or how to write basic poetry. Anything I know is self taught. I don't know how to do Iambic Pentameter but I'm trying to learn. I just don't understand the Wikipedia page. **T_T**

> I'd never been the sort to crave death,  
> For myself or anyone else, really.  
> Yet if anyone seeking such met Death,  
> They'd see their grand desire is silly.  
> But there was a small period of time,  
> Words that I'm ashamed to jot,  
> Whispers sent through the grapevine,  
> Said you'd been caught in a nazi plot!  
> And I went thenceforth in bad weather,  
> If my skills couldn't save your being,  
> Then at least we'd expire together,  
> Our time on Earth would end with meaning.  
> Looking back on that time, I have to admit,  
> For you, any crime I would gladly commit.

**72.) (Untitled Limerick)**

> **A** ll the day long we would talk,  
>  **N** ever caring for where we would walk,  
>  **G** etting lost in our meeting,  
>  **E** ven past a stiff greeting,  
>  **L** eft companionship no one could mock.

** 137.) Look **

> I hate storms. They fill the world with gloom.  
> They make me so tired and blue.  
> But when I'm with you, it gets better,  
> While the earth gets wetter, you smile.  
> You make it seem worth that short while too.  
> And I bet you don't know as I won't say it,  
> But when you see a rainbow the sun shines,  
> Not from the sky but from your eyes.  
> And that's what makes it all worth it.  
> The wet and gloomy day is a memory I'll keep.  
> And I won't forget how you look at me that way.

**190.) Deserving Better**

> Some might view me as audacious,  
> Though I am not so quick to agree.  
> It is common to be contumacious,  
> It's steeped in my blood's history.
> 
> But your family doesn't care for you.  
> They won't bother to treat you well.  
> Yet they would prefer to control you,  
> And put you through living Hell.
> 
> Animals get more love, even swine,  
> Yet your family's wicked actions,  
> Have shown this behaviour is fine,  
> And that they don't expect a reaction.
> 
> I'm not some paragon of courtesy,  
> I don't think you're weak or need rescue,  
> But you showed _me_ common decency,  
> That those bastards can't show _you_?

**310.) (Untitled)**

> Realising I love you wasn't sudden.  
> Didn't lose my breath, didn't even twitch.  
> 'Twas impossible not to Fall for you.  
> The Garden began this delightful itch.
> 
> And you, my angel, never noticed,  
> How brightly I smiled at you that day.  
> Yes, you didn't even recognise me,  
> But I promise it's now okay.
> 
> Though I can hold a grudge fiercely,  
> I couldn't truly be angry with you.  
> You're my favourite person on earth,  
> For you there's nothing I won't do.

**500.) Embarrassment**

> I imagined you seeing these little scribbles of mine.  
> And I think I had a Heart Attack or a Stroke.  
> I could not bear for you to see my atrocious writing.  
> I'm just some overly emotional bloke!  
> My dramatics should be excused, in my opinion.  
> The poems contradict every word I ever spoke!

**616.) (Untitled)**

> I'm not a good or nice person.  
> I don't use words like 'adorable' and 'charming'.  
> So why in Hell's name do you embody these words so well?!  
> And why do I forget what I want to say half the time?  
> This is your fault, angel. Take responsibility.  
> I'm supposed to be the bad guy.  
> But I have these disgusting things known as feelings.  
> I shouldn't like them but I do.

**713.) Hypocrisy**

> I can't fathom how your family,  
> Could brag about its benignity.  
> When they don't help anybody.  
> And care not about adversity.
> 
> _You_ actually care for humanity.  
> And _you_ care about their agony.  
> It's never been more plain to me.  
> That _you_ represent angels perfectly.

**799.) (Untitled)**

> What is so great about crepes anyway?  
> Are they really something worth dying for?  
> I know you love food but, to me it's a bore.  
> I would love to _not_ go prematurely grey.

**928.) Pining**

> It's been some time since we've seen each other.  
> I don't want you to think that I am stalking you.  
> I know I can be very off-putting most of the time.  
> I'm just worried that I'll become a bother to you.  
> And then you'll avoid me just like you did before.  
> And I'll sleep an eon to avoid pining for you.

"Oh, my dear, you could never scare me away!" said Aziraphael, breaking off from reading to stare down at the demon with as much sincerity as he could obviously muster. it was practically shining out of his face. "I would be so excited to meet up with you that I'd spend a little extra time on my hair before going out and wear my best clothes of the period."

His angel would spend time preening just for Crowley? Even then he'd cared that much about how Crowley perceived him? He fancied Crowley even without knowing it?

The demon twisted around and drew himself up Aziraphael's body, practically slinking as he did so. "I think we should take this to bed, don't you, angel?" he suggested softly, trailing a single finger down the angel's nose.

A delightful flush filled the apples of Aziraphael's cheeks and his pale lashes fluttered. "Am I to be rewarded for my diligence, dear boy?" His eyes practically sparkled.

"Yes, angel. You deserve it."

Another one of Crowley's many kinks was taking care of his best friend/lover in any way he could. It just made him feel great inside.

With a graceful sweep of the arm, he declared, "Allons-y, ange."

* * *

**A/N: Finished!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**See ya! :D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS! ^-^

**Author's Note:**

> CHECK OUT MY MANY OTHER FICS! ^-^ I HAVE ANOTHER GOOD OMENS FIC AS WELL.


End file.
